


Alone

by CJtheWeeb



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJtheWeeb/pseuds/CJtheWeeb
Summary: Stephen has to get to Tony to make sure he is okay. To make sure that everything will be alright.To make sure Stephen doesn't wind up alone.





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the "alone" square for the Ironstrange Bingo. Yes my titling skills are very creative, and yes I enjoy hurting others.

Stephen knew he shouldn’t be panicking. Tony could take care of himself. He was a genius, a brilliant fighter, the _Iron Man_ for Christ’s sakes. One dead com meant nothing.

Stephen continued his frantic search.

His eyes roamed the decimated streets below as the Cloak zipped him across the sky. Every pile of rubble cause Stephen’s heart to sink further, every flash of red sending a spike of fear deeper into his heart. 

And still no Tony. 

The monstrous creature raged on in the distance, the other Avengers occupied with ceasing its movements and limiting the damage caused. Stephen and Tony had nearly contained the creature for the strike-team to deliver the killing blow when it had suddenly swung a massive appendage through the air. Preoccupied with roping down the slimy beast, Stephen didn’t see the looming tentacle until it was too late to move. He braced for impact, feeling the Cloak tighten around him in fear, only to see a flash of red and gold at the last moment. He spiraled through the air, the Cloak struggling to keep him afloat, and watched in horror as Tony was launched across the sky before slamming through a building and disappearing in a cloud of dust. Stephen immediately set off to find him, but a combination of disorientation from being slapped around like a ping pong ball and the unrecognizable cityscape was making his task difficult.

_What if he’s hurt, what if I’m too late, what if-_

Stephen shook his head in irritation and dipped down closer to the street. This was no time to be panicking like a child; Tony needed him. Or, better yet, the man was completely fine and sitting on a curb somewhere being dramatic and declaring that _this_ was it, _this_ time he meant it when he said he was retiring.

The glare of metal at the edge of Stephen’s vision caught his attention, and he turned his head towards the shining object.

And there he was, sprawled across the crater he had made in the street. Unmoving and still.

Too still.

Stephen landed hard next to the still form of his lover, stumbling forwards and dropping to his knees next to the unmoving suit. With a simple twist of his hand and a flash of orange light the chest and face-pieces peeled away, and Stephen felt something inside him twist in agony.

Tony’s chest was still, his whiskey brown eyes glazed and staring at the distant sky. A single trickle of blood ran from the edge of his mouth down through that immaculate facial hair he so prided himself on. Despite the rich tan of his skin, he looked pale and ashen, as if all the blood had drained from his features. 

Years of medical training kicked in and Stephen immediately went to work, bracing his hands on Tony’s chest and forcefully pumping air into his unmoving lungs. He could save him, _he could fix this_ and soon Tony would sputter as air rushed back into his lungs and life came back into his eyes. Everything would be fine, and Tony would laugh and crack some horrible joke, and then they would all go and get pie or...

Stephen’s hands slipped.

Grunting irritably, Stephen adjusted his shaking hands back into place and continued his compressions. His hands screamed in pain, trembling under the pressure of Stephen forcing his body weight down onto Tony’s ribcage. Years of therapy and mystic arts and yet they still refused even the slightest bit of extra stress, never mind work as strenuous as this. It didn’t matter though, he could do this, he was a _doctor_. Tony was savable, he just he to fight through it. Fight through the pain to save the man he loved. 

His hands slipped again.

Despite his desperate attempts, Stephen could scarcely manage more than a couple of pushes before his trembling hands gave way, too weak and damaged and _useless_ to stay in place. They burned in agony, as if white-hot knives where being driven through his fingers, and yet Stephen could not _stop_. He had to keep trying, to see those eyes come alive with the brilliant shine he loved so, to force one last snarky remark from a bloodied mouth. Tony didn’t even look that hurt, it just a single little trickle of blood. He had been through so much worse, hell and back really, and a one hard fall would never kill him. _Could_ never kill him. Nothing could stop the Iron Man. Stephen could get him back if only his _fucking worthless hands would work._

Screaming in rage, Stephen lifted his fists above his head as they glowed bright orange, before slamming them down onto the unmoving chest below. Something cracked and shifted below his quaking palms as a puff of orange fanned out and dissipated softly into the air. Stephen stared at the face below him, the face that greeted him each morning with a gentle kiss, the face that smiled wickedly when scheming up some new toy, the face that brought joy back into his life.

Tony’s eyes remained unmoving, face slack and grey. 

All Stephen could do was sob, pounding hopelessly against Tony’s chest with his damaged hands as he hunched over his lovers still form. Hoping for something, anything. One last glance from those thoughtful eyes, a gentle touch, a _goodbye_. But there was nothing, only Stephen’s ragged cries for Tony to come back home, to come back to _Stephen_. To _get up goddamnit, you can’t leave me like this._

The Iron Man, earth’s greatest defender, was motionless as the weeping sorcerer gathered him into trembling arms, rocking him gently back and forth and pleading for him to return. He simply lay there, bundled against a heaving chest, once shimmering eyes still staring blankly ahead at nothing.

And just like that Stephen was trapped in suffocating solitud... Cold. Frightened.

Alone.


End file.
